Disclaimer: I don't own An American Tail. I don't own the picture (cover). Or the song.
(qwertuno and SilentReadersMatter)
(Au where Fievel didn't find his parents.)
(Hope you enjoy.)
The Streets are merciless.
The first years are when Fievel almost does a handful of times. Either by coincidence or purpose.
Turns out mice aren't that nice.
For a while, Fievel becomes a worker. Earning his keep your keep and survive in this place of heck.
Even if Fievel's a little older, he tries to be as good as he can be. Obeying the orders and working.
Until he doesn't.
He's twelve now, stalking the streets of American. Acting so casual anyone might not mistake him for a homeless kid.
His clothes changed.
No longer were the garments kiddie like. Now Fievel wore a dark brown hoodie somehow fitting his small stature. It settled perfectly.
A little baggy, still good.
He walks through the stony pavements. The hood raised one this head so one recognised the kid underneath the mask.
"Philly?"
Fievel switched names a while back. Others in the streets have long forgotten the name Fievel. Tony once suggested going by that.
So he took the advice.
"Yep?" He turned around, raising a brow. "Is there anything you need?"
"A job."
Fievel hummed in interest. It's been a while since he'd been in that field. Still, anything to earn keep.
"...What is it?"
A childlike tone slipped out. Fievel often covered his childish voice with a much more older than often convinced people otherwise of his actual age.
This time, it worked again.
Thank Gosh.
The stranger mouse stood at least two feet taller. So he could heat Fievel if he wanted just to prove his dominance as an alpha.
Fievel relied on wits instead.
"Steal some food from a family."
The word family stirred a feeling inside Fievel's chest. He'd once been so attached to his own.
At the age of eight, he hoped to be with them.
Now that he's twelve, the hope's dwindled.
"How much is the pay?" Fievel asked coolly, pulling at the hood's laces. "Food, money?"
Like Mama and Papa never had.
The laces rougher sides almost ripped. With how hard Fievel unconsciously pulled, it was no wonder the hood lasted this long.
"A kid like you." The bigger rat threw a cigarette down smashing the little thing. "Is perfect. Small and sneaky and able to find food."
In some ways, the old rat was right. Fievel hummed in interest, biting his lip in consideration. The pros and cons measuring themselves in his head.
The pros outweighed the cons.
He nodded uncertainly. Fievel needed food anyway, it'd been weeks since he ate something decent.
YOU ARE READING
Lost And Found. (American Tail Shortfic.)
Fanfiction(No Reunion AU. Completed.) He wants his family back. He wants to find them. He can't even seem to get a glance. He's given up now, it'd been years and he's a survivors of the streets. Turns out family isn't so easily forgiven. *********************...
